I'm not getting out
by daughterofacountry
Summary: America has kidnapped a young girl and is holding her captive, she's writing a diary (which is what you'll be reading) to let people know what happened to her while she was there, because she doesn't think she'll live to tell them herself.
1. Intro chapter

He was just a stranger when I first saw him; I was walking home at the end of school and he just happened to walk past me. I turned the corner at one end of the street as he turned the corner at the other end. His scruffy blonde hair moving slightly in the wind and his glasses sliding slowly down his nose. We didn't brush shoulders or even make eye contact, but after that day I started seeing him everywhere I went; at the shops; whenever I went out with friends, and he always wore the same clothes; a dark brown bomber jacket with a lighter brown suit like thing underneath. When I started seeing him in the street where I lived I started feeling like he was following me, but I just pushed the feelings aside, thinking that it was probably just paranoia, but it turns out I was right. He was stalking me, and then he took it a step further, and now I'm trapped, held captive by him, and I really don't think he's going to let me go anytime soon. Or ever, in fact. So I'm writing this diary, so if anyone should ever find it, or me, they'll know what's gone on here, they'll know what he's been doing to me, and they'll know how much I cry. So if you should be the one to find this, then you'll know the things I saw before I died, because I'm not going to get out of here alive.


	2. Before it started

Before he took me we didn't speak. I'd only ever heard his voice once when we accidentally walked into each other one evening. It was on the same road that we passed each other every evening, the road where I'd first saw him; our shoulders knocked. "Sorry." We both said in sync. He had a strong american accent that sounded very cheerful; well, any voice would sound cheerful compared to mine. Mine was dull and low in pitch, it had a sense of sadness in it, even when I was happy. One of my earphones fell out, my favorite band suddenly blaring into the otherwise silent street. He smiled, and I blushed slightly, no body knew what music I liked, and now a random stranger was hearing it. I struggled to put the earphone back in my ear, dropping it a few times as I hurried away from him, my school shoes trip-trapping on the concrete. I dreampt of him that night, I dreampt of passing him again, and having a full blown conversation with him, though when I woke I knew that I would never talk to anyone I didn't know. But when I saw him on my way home from school that day, it was sorely tempting to say Hi. I badly wanted to hear him speak again, I wanted to be sure that I'd heard his accent correctly last night. It had sounded so surreal in my dream that I couldn't be sure that my subconscious hadn't just made it up to amuse me while I was in dreamland. I thought about walking into him again, but as we passed I just couldn't force myself to do it; I carried on like that for days, but eventually I managed to distract myself enough with other things that I wasn't bothered anymore; after all, the upcoming school dance was very exciting, so I was mainly thinking about that. Kids from other schools were coming as well, so us girls were not just dressing to impress the boys from our school, but from the other schools as well. On the night of the dance I got dressed in my party outfit; black skinny jeans and a purple fitted crop top; did my make-up to match and headed to the school with my little group of three friends. When we got to the school the doors weren't open yet, and there were lots of other little groups of girls standing around, while groups of boys sat on the wall that surrounded the school. We were waiting just outside the gates, anxious for the dance to start, when I spotted him, he was sat in his car on the other side of the street, exactly opposite where we were stood, and he was watching me. He caught my gaze and held it; I just couldn't pull my eyes away, it was as if they were somehow glued to his. I didn't even notice when the doors were finally opened. "Violet come on, the doors are open, we can go in now. Violet!" My friend Sophia yelled at me, I jumped, snapping my head round to look at her. "Oh, so they are, well let's go then." I said slowly, walking towards the doors. I gave one last glance at the car and he waved at me; it was only a little wave, if anything it was more like a salute. I probably would have waved back, but then my friends dragged me into the hall. I couldn't enjoy the dance probably; I moved along to the music, but I was just going through the motions, to engrossed in my own thoughts to really know what I was doing. I just really wanted to know who he was, and why he seemed to be everywhere that I was, and why he was still parked across the road when I left the school at 11 pm that night.


	3. Panic mode

I couldn't sleep that night, or any night for a week afterwards. I just kept thinking about him. Why had he still been there at the end of the dance? It had been nearing midnight, surely he had a life. When ever I saw him I tried not to make eye contact with him, but his big blue eyes just seemed to call out to me. He wanted me to look at him, and I tried my best not to, but it was really hard. One morning there was a big street party, I prettied myself up and went to join it. I met up with my friends on the corner of the road and we walked along with the crowd, keeping a tight grasp on each other so we didn't get lost. At one point I had to let go of Sophia, we were being jostled around so much that I just couldn't keep my hold on her arm. I pushed myself forward through the crowd, reaching out to her, when all of a sudden someone grabbed me from behind. I gasped, losing my chance to wrench my arm free. "There you are, I thought I'd lost you out here." A strong American accent filled my ears and I went into panic mode. I tried to pull my arm from his grasp, but he had too tight of a hold on me for me to get away. He dragged me through the crowd to try and get me away from any possible saviors. I knew that I should cry out, and try to get someone to help me, but I couldn't speak, I couldn't yell, no matter how hard I tried, I couldn't make a single sound, and the crowds were starting to thin out. I didn't try to fight him anymore, I just let him drag me away from everyone. As son as we were far enough away from all the people he shoved a cloth over my mouth. I started to struggle then, but it wasn't helpful at all, my vision blurred and I went limp, collapsing into his arms. He talked to me, whispering gently as he shepherded me to his car. He drove to the docks and onto a boat. In my drugged state I was fascinated by my surroundings, I'd always wanted to board a ferry in a car, so I was enjoying watching what was going on. He watched me with a slight smile playing on his lips, though it was clear that he knew I was only acting this way because of the drugs. I was unconscious by the time we drove off of the boat again, so I have no idea where we were, or even what country we were docked at, but I woke up three days later in a hotel, just in time to board a flight. I was still groggy, so I didn't think to memorize what flight it was, I just knew that I didn't want to be there. I tried to get away from him while we were at the airport, but every time I tried to sneak off he grabbed my arm, pulling me back to his side and whispering to me. "I don't want to hurt you Violet, but if you keep trying to escape I'm not going to be very happy. You do understand don't you? After all, I wouldn't want to wreck your pretty face, would I my sweet?" All I could do was nod my head slightly, knowing that there was nothing that I could do to get back to the real world now.


End file.
